


Ante

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 00:54:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21578737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Gladio beat Noct.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 2
Kudos: 62





	Ante

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Noctis _failed_ , and this is his punishment: Gladiolus throws him up against the wall with the force of a raging daemon. Noctis cries out, head tossing back, body tensing up, and Gladiolus gives him no chance to recover. In the wild, there won’t be any second chances. If the Walls ever fall, a single bite would be fatal—Noctis wouldn’t survive it like the several dozen bites Gladiolus has bruised into his pliant body over the passing years. 

Gladiolus is still teaching him that lesson, and as Noctis’ training sword clatters to the ground, Gladiolus sinks his teeth into Noctis’ soft flesh. He pierces the skin at Noctis’ throat, because that’s his _favourite_ spot, though he’s been forced to drink from others when it’s too soon and the last bruises haven’t faded. Noctis’ gorgeous figure is littered with his ardor, some gentle little love bites and others curious nips, but this one is _rough_ and brutal. Noctis is too good, too strong and intelligent, to still be losing matches. He has the power of the crystal—he can _warp_ , can wield anything he wants, should be able to parry every one of Gladiolus’ moves. But he got his ass kicked, and Gladiolus takes his prize in _blood_.

He drinks Noctis up, feeling like a monster but loving every drop. Noctis trembles in his arms, squirming and whimpering, sometimes moaning, fingers digging into Gladiolus’ skin so hard that it would hurt anyone else. Gladiolus takes it. He slurps Noctis down in greedy chugs, letting it spill out around his fangs and trickle down Noctis’ shoulder. It might even stain his shirt. Ignis will wash it out. And Ignis won’t say a word about it to anyone, because this is how kings earn their shields’ loyalty, and Gladiolus wouldn’t be the first Amicitia to devour the live-blood of a Caelum. He’s just the luckiest. He’s seen pictures, heard stories of, read up about every king Lucis has ever had. Noctis is the most handsome of them. He’s the cutest, the most endearing, the most _fun_ —he’s _Gladiolus’_. Yet Gladiolus ravages him like he’s nothing more than a rabbit caught in a hunter’s trap. 

Gladiolus is a terrible shield. He knows that. He’s _harming his prince_ , but Noctis actually ruts against Gladiolus like the rotten, wanton little brat they all know he is. He loves every second, and he tries to gasp Gladiolus’ name, but he doesn’t have the breath yet.

Gladiolus takes him right to the edge, then abruptly wrenches out, stepping back and wiping the stray blood off his lips. Noctis immediately collapses. He tumbles to the floor, falling right on his ass. There’s one worrying second where he looks ready to pass out, and he’s panting so hard that it almost garners Gladiolus’ sympathy.

But then Noctis hurriedly pops his fly open and starts frantically jerking off, and Gladiolus snorts— _that’s_ the prince he loves.


End file.
